


Roses Laid Upon Your Bedspread.

by bottomlouislarry



Series: Flowers Slipping From Your Hands [2]
Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst, Baker!Harry, Bottom Louis, Crying, Cuddling, Dirty Talk, Fluff, Graphic depictions of violence - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Louis in Sweaters, Loving!Harry, M/M, Night Terrors, Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con, Rimming, Screaming, Sharing Clothes, Smut, Top Harry, cursing, graphic depictions of domestic violence, hurt!louis, soft!louis, sweet!Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 19:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12918774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottomlouislarry/pseuds/bottomlouislarry
Summary: "How did I live before I had you?"Harry knows what he means by before. The time before Harry and Louis. Before flowers bloomed and butterflies fluttered, before roses meant love and smiles meant happy.The time before Harry made Louis eat an entire pizza with him while they watched romantic comedies on their third date. The time before Louis picked and pressed all the yellow flowers he could find because Harry said they make him happy. The time before Harry drove all around London looking for Louis' favorite cookie because he ran out at the bakery.The time before Louis giggled and wiped pizza sauce from Harry's chin with his thumb and kissed him. The time before the flowers were framed and placed just above the bakery kitchen. The time before you could always find Louis' favorite cookies on the middle left shelf of the cupboard."You always had me."(Louis is still damaged in every sense of the word, but getting better means so much more than it ever has.)





	Roses Laid Upon Your Bedspread.

**Author's Note:**

> hello friends !! im so sorry this took so long ! im dividing part II into chapters because i don't want to keep everyone waiting. please feel free to yell at me in the comments for my spending of 6+ months with writer's block and apparent falling off the face of the earth. enjoy !! all the love xx.

It shouldn't be as surreal as it is, splaying a hand across taught skin, muscles relaxed underneath, breathing slow. There is dust in his eyelashes, fluttering under early morning light, white sheets pulled up and over their bare bodies, and Louis is content.

He used to think these kinds of mornings are only in movies, something for you to wish for but never have. He's glad he's wrong, because the bed is warm and the room is bathing in a soft yellow glow, his lover's skin soft with sleep and snuggles and freshly washed bedding.

His face is pressed to the pillow, brow furrowed like it always is in his sleep. He's laying on his stomach, arms under the pillow, broad torso in display. The sheets have been gently pulled down by a dainty hand, brought to lie just across the dip of Harry's back.

Louis' fingers trace circles into his shoulder blades, smiling softly as goosebumps arise across Harry's arms. He loves him so much. His ring catches the light as his hand smooths down the middle of Harry's back, making his stomach swoop. It makes him smile just a little bit fonder every time he looks at it. He finally has an _after_. A good after.

When he looks back up at Harry's face, his eyes are open, so he stares into them. Green opal, he thinks.

Harry shuts his eyes again and takes a deep breath, stretching out his body just a bit and adjusting the pillow under his cheek. "Morning, baby."

Louis continues letting his fingernails glide lightly over Harry's skin.

"G'morning," he murmurs, voice soft and tinkly.

Harry sighs, melting as Louis traces up the nape of his neck. "That feels good," he mumbles, voice gruff and thick.

Louis smirks, just a bit, scooting closer to lay his head on Harry's pillow and running his hand up into Harry's hair. He hums, kissing his love's defined bicep.

Harry brings his arm out from under the pillow to wrap around Louis, pulling him closer and maneuvering himself on top of him.

He buries his face in Louis' neck, breathing him in as Louis' arms wrap around his shoulders. He feels Louis' fingers start to scratch again, so he moans. Quiet, soft.

Louis just stares at where he's working over Harry's sore back, enjoying the weight on top of him and wondering how he got so lucky.

"So," Harry mumbles, lifting his head a little to kiss along Louis' neck. "I was thinking..." he trails off, distracting himself by mouthing at a particularly sensitive spot.

"Hm?" Louis moans, shutting his eyes and digging his fingers in just a bit harder.

Harry continues to tease, biting softly and running his tongue over the skin to sooth it, moving his lips in a way that has Louis sighing into the open air. He starts mouthing slowly up to Louis' ear, lifting himself up so he's completely hovering over him, nipping his fiancé's ( _fiancé's_ ) earlobe.

Louis gasps softly and brings a hand to the back of Harry's head, clutching his shoulder with the other.

Harry nips one more time and flicks his tongue up the shell of Louis' ear. "I was thinking," he whispers, "maybe I could throw your thighs over my shoulders and eat you out until you can't take it."

Louis' breath hitches. "Sounds like a good idea to me," he murmurs.

Harry chuckles into his skin, slipping down Louis' body and inbetween his thighs. He runs his fingertips over the underside of his lover's half hard cock, causing him to shudder.

Louis feels Harry's breath fan over his hole, so he lays his head back and lets out a breath through his nose.

Harry presses a kiss just above Louis' entrance, then dips down and runs his tongue up and over him.

Louis lets out a broken moan, pushing into the sensation, causing Harry to splay his big hands across his delicate hips to keep him still.

He continues his languid pace, sliding his tongue up and down, just getting Louis slick. The only sounds in the room are Louis' soft gasps and the shifting of bed sheets, small wet noises emanating from where Harry is going at it.

"Harry," Louis moans, turning his head to one side and grasping the pillow.

Harry dips his tongue in a bit, rubbing Louis' hip sweetly, holding him. He feels as Louis' back arches, hears his breathing speed up and feels his hips swivel against his mouth.

Harry pulls off to kiss up Louis' perineum. "Feel good, baby?" He murmurs, going back in and fitting his lips around Louis' hole, sucking.

Louis squeaks, jolting. " _Yes_ ," he moans, thighs trembling around Harry's head.

Harry's lips and tongue are so warm, wet, pleasure spreading out from between his legs and through his whole body.

Harry continues mouthing over him, sliding up and down and in and out until Louis reaches down to grip his curls.

"Hazza, _close_ ," he moans, throwing his head back.

Harry moans into him, bringing his hands around to pull Louis' hole apart with his thumbs, thrusting his tongue in and out faster, willing him to come.

"Oh my go-Harry, please, gonna come," he whines, back arching.

It isn't until Harry gently nips the top of his rim that the pressure becomes too much, heat curling up from his stomach and around his spine.

He shudders his orgasm out, spilling untouched over his stomach and bucking his hips.

Harry comes to a slow stop, working Louis through his climax. He stops completely eventually, kissing up the crease where Louis' crotch meets his thigh.

He stops and just mouths at his hip for a bit while Louis comes down, caressing his side with his thumb.

Louis sighs when the contractions stop, looking down at Harry and whining, making grabby hands at him.

Harry smiles and comes back up, attacking Louis with disgusting kisses, letting the boy under him wrap his arms around his neck.

"Mmm," Louis hums, catching Harry's lips in his rampage. It's short and sweet, morning breath and all. "Good morning to you too," he smirks.

Harry just grins, leaning in to kiss him again.

 

-

 

"Hazza?" Louis says, small, leaning against the bedroom doorway.

Harry's head snaps up from his laptop, eyes immediately concerned. "Yeah?"

Louis rubs his own arm, gaze flicking from Harry's laptop to his face. "Are you busy?"

Harry is quiet for a second, staring at Louis before moving his laptop off his lap and sitting up straight on the bed, legs crossed. "No, no, I'm not,"  _never too busy for you_ , "what's wrong?" He asks softly.

Louis is quiet, walking forward a few feet, just so that he's completely in the room. "Can I lay with you?"

Harry clicks his tongue. "'Course," he coos, opening his arms for Louis to crawl into.

Louis immediately climbs onto the bed and snuggles up to Harry, folding his arms up so he takes up as little space as possible, wrapping around his fiancé.

Harry pulls him in, kissing the top of his head and rubbing his back to warm him up. "Everything ok?"

Louis just nods, small and vulnerable, calming as he breathes Harry in. He smells like detergent and something Louis can only describe as home.

Harry knows it still bothers him sometimes. He knows it's not something he can ever forget, but they're doing  _so well_. Louis is bubbly and bright and confident again, and even a little bit of a tease when he wants to be. He's happy, and it's beautiful. But he's still affected, he still gets stuck in that spot, and he still needs to be protected. Harry is ok with being the one to protect him.

"You wanna talk about it?" Harry questions gently, scratching down Louis' spine, feeling him shiver.

They've been doing that a lot more, talking. Not always about what happened, but about what Louis' feeling in general. He doesn't keep it all in anymore, he's gotten better at opening up. Things are good.

Louis is quiet for a moment, letting his hand rest over Harry's heart.

Harry is about to drop it, because sometimes Louis doesn't want to talk, and that's ok.

But then Louis' pretty voice tells him otherwise.

"I broke a dish today."

Harry furrows his brow in confusion, but doesn't speak, running a hand down Louis' arm.

Louis takes a deep breath. "The last time I broke a dish was when James told me to clean up after dinner."

Harry shuts his eyes, letting out a slow breath.

"I dropped it, and it broke. When I got down on my knees to pick it up, he slammed my head into the cabinet by my hair," his voice wavers but he does not cry, just snuggles farther into Harry's chest. "I had to go to the hospital with a concussion. He told them I slipped in the kitchen while I was cleaning up. I didn't say anything."

Harry's eyes are squeezed shut now, anger pulsing through him for James, laced with empathy for his baby. He can't imagine anyone hurting Louis. It makes his chest burn, like there's something clawing it's way out.

"It's dumb," Louis says, "to be so upset about a broken plate."

"It's more than that, though," Harry says immediately.

They're quiet after that, just laying together, tangled on top of the duvet, counting each other's breaths.

Louis nuzzles Harry's chest a little bit, shutting his eyes and feeling peaceful for the first time since he heard the cracking of glass against their kitchen tiles hours ago.

"It's ok that you broke the dish," Harry murmurs.

Louis takes another deep breath, nodding. "I know."

 

-

 

"White roses or red?" Harry asks, pen between his teeth, staring at the sky.

Louis hums, studying the same clouds from where his head is resting on Harry's stomach. "White, but I want pink petals for the isle."

Harry smiles to himself, lifting his notebook to write Louis' request down exactly how he said it. "We should have pink and white roses going up the arch, then."

He feels Louis nod, his small hand resting by Harry's side on the grass.

There's a beat, Harry staring at the blank page and thinking about what kind of chairs to get, before Louis pipes up. "Hazza?"

"Button?" Harry teases, laying the pen and pad on his chest so he can run his fingers through Louis' hair.

"Can we get little white butterflies? Like, little fake ones? I want them on the center pieces," he says, watching a cloud swirl and morph in the wind up above.

Harry smiles fondly, brushing Louis' fringe off his forehead. "Yeah, we can do that, sweetheart. Why white butterflies?" He lifts his head a bit off the ground so he can see Louis' face briefly.

There's a little smile on his lips and his eyes are sparkling.

"When I was younger, my mum used to tell me when someone passes away, they come to visit from heaven as those little white butterflies, so whenever you see one, it's someone who loves you that you lost," he explains, turning to lay on his side, using Harry as a pillow. He studies the stubble on Harry's chin, dusting down to his neck. "I want my mum to be there."

There are people walking by on the park trail, probably staring, but Harry doesn't mind as he scoots down to lay his head next to Louis', using his fiancé's shoulder as a place to rest on.

Louis smiles at him, poking his upside-down nose and reaching up to card through his thick curls.

Harry leans in to give him a kiss. It's a bit odd, the angle, but it's perfect. Always perfect.

"I'll tell you what, baby," Harry says, pushing Louis' glasses up his nose for him. "We can have a place reserved for your mum, at the ceremony and dinner. She can have her own chairs, and we can put little butterflies all over them so that everyone knows."

Louis grins so wide his eyes crinkle, and Harry traces the lines of his face. "Yeah?" He giggles.

Harry nods, smiling back at him. "Flowers," he murmurs, kissing Louis' nose.

Louis waits until Harry pulls away so that he can kiss his as well, then nuzzles into his cheek. "Butterflies."

They settle again, heads still next to each other's, Louis' fingers resting in Harry's brown hair.

They stare up at the trees and the sky, the sun just about to set, washing the park in a soft blue.

"I wish I could always see the sky," Louis says softly. "Ceilings are boring. They're just one color. Too plain."

Harry just listens, biting his lip so he doesn't smile too wide.

"The sky is so big, and there's so many different things to look at. Look at that cloud!" He's pointing now, shaking Harry's head gently with his shoulder. "So much better than a ceiling," he muses, beginning to move his fingers on Harry's scalp again.

It may be the absolute magic that runs through Louis' veins and into Harry when they touch, but an idea works into the taller's head as Louis rambles about boring ceilings.

Boring ceilings, indeed.

 

-

 

"Yeah, sorry, lovey. I'm just feeling a bit ill," Harry croaks, pulling the blanket up and covering his shoulder.

Louis pouts at him, sitting down on the edge of the couch to rub Harry's arm. "Aw, I'm sorry, babe. Want me to stay here then? We can go to the store tomorrow if you feel better," he coos, his bottom lip jutting out as he gently pulls one of Harry's curls.

Harry tries not to give in and just pull Louis down so he can cuddle him, because he's, like, adorable. But no. He can't let Louis get the best of him.

(Not today, at least.)

"No, no, it's ok. We are in desperate need of milk. I'll give you lots and lots of kisses for good luck," Harry grumbles, reaching a hand out from under the blanket to caress Louis' side.

Louis giggles, tilting his head and continuing to stroke over Harry's back. "Don't think I need good luck kisses for the store, Haz," he teases, laying down on the couch beside him and curling up under his arm. "I'll accept them, nonetheless."

Harry smiles softly, reveling in the way Louis' fingers brush his cheek.

He leans in and takes Louis' bottom lip between his own, moving languidly and rubbing his palm up and down the curve of his waist. "Love this," he says, pulling back a bit. "Love how soft you are. So pretty, button."

It isn't even sexual, the way Harry is speaking right now. It's so genuine and sweet that Louis can't help but blush.

He stares at Harry for a second, then flicks his nose. "You get me sick, you're not seeing any of _this_ ," he emphasizes the word by reaching for Harry's hand on his hip and sliding it down to the swell of his arse, "for a whole week."

Harry smirks and hums, but soon remembers what he has to do and why he needs Louis out of the house as soon as possible.

He smacks Louis lightly on his bum, making him giggle, then nudges him to get up. "C'mon, love. I'm hungry and I gotta wait for you to get home with food," he whines.

Louis scoffs, hopping off the couch to grab his keys and wallet. "I'll be back soon, Haz. Flowers," he says sweetly, leaning over the back of the couch for one more kiss, then turning to bound out the door.

As soon as the lock clicks, Harry springs off the couch and up the stairs.

He pulls the bedroom closet open and lifts the two cans of paint, placing them to the side.

He goes back into the closet and reemerges with a ladder over one shoulder and a small tarp over the other. He sets everything up as fast as he can, only having an hour or so until Louis gets home.

The tarp on the floor covers the wine stain from weeks before, an unknown metaphor hidden beneath Harry's feet. The past is over now, hidden with newly found peace.

Harry doesn't bother to pull the bed or any of their furniture out of the room as he would lose too much time, so he just lays down newspaper and gets to work.

Cracking open the first paint can, Harry grins to himself and dips his brush into sky blue.

 

**Author's Note:**

> ;)


End file.
